The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-04-07

right mind. was among green fields
and woods; l was gathering flowers:
l was climbing mountains; and from
these visions invariably awoke to
darkness-darkness above, around
darkness below, hiding the abyss that
hungered Rreedily for my life. And no
friendly face, no voic >, no football near.
Not even q step, through all these
slow, slow hours: If passing peasant
through the day had heard the lonely
cry rising from the depths. he had set
it down to ghost or pixy, and had
passed on his frightened way regard
less.
And now that night was wearing on,
and no rescue. I could not live until
morning-I knew that. My mind
wandered again. My mother waited
for me; l must hurry home; but was
bound by chain, in outer darkness,
and was going to die. There was no
Christian in all the land to succor me
II was forgotten and forsaken, left in
the pit-and l would unclasp my
hands ana fall and die. No, l would
call again once more. "Help! help!
Mercy! helpv'
As my fainting voice died in the dark
depths and quivered up to the glim-
mering sky, felt hope die with it, and
! gave up all thought of life. turned
my eyes toward my grave below, and
murmured with parched lips:
''Out of the depths have Icried unto
thee, o Lord"
The little rill that had saved my life
hitherto still trickled on, and its sill
very murmur, as it dropped on the
rocks below was the sole sound that
broke the deathly silence around me.
My prayer was over, and had not
relinquished my hold. Twas stronger
than had deemed myself l would
cry out again: "Help! help! help"
I stopped. listened. Asound was
floating on the wind. Coming, coming,
joining the drip, drip, drip OF the rill-
then dying, then returning. Listening
with my whole being, l recognized the
sound. Bells-chuch bells-chimes
Ginning in the New Year. 20. God,
have mercy on me! have mercy on mel"
Bells ringing in the new year-beIls
Ginning in the ears of friends, telling OF
sadness and hope-bells clashing in at
merry intervals between music and
laughter, loving greetings, kisses and
joy.
Will no one in my fathers house
take pity on me? Am I missed no.
where? The bells chime feastine
and gladness, and l am here hanging
between life and death. The jaws OF
the grave are beneath me, my joints
are broken and the bells chime on.
Would it not be good deed on this
New Year. day to save me? Oh, feast
ers and jewellers, hear me!
Help! hep: 1t is Christmas time.
Help. for Christ's sake, good people!'
The bells float nearer and drown the
drip of the trucking water, and l cry
"Help! help"' saying, "Now will call
till die" A film grows over my eyes,
but my voice is strong and desperate,
as Ishout, ''Christmastide!F For Christ's
sake, help, good Christians"
A great light-a flash of fire! For a
moment deem it death; gazing up
ward l see, amid glare of torches,
faces-O they were angels to me-eag-
er faces peering downward. And close
to me swings a torch, let down into
the depths; its light falls on my bag
gard face-a great shout rends the
night sky.
s'He is here! he is safe!-he lives!"
l cannot speak, though my lips
move, and my heart stands still as
see one, two, three daring men swing
themselves over the abyss-miners,
used to danger-and in a moment
stout arms are around me and / am
borne upward, carried gently like a
child, placed an instant on my feet,
and then laid tenderly down on the
earth. l am so weary, and faint, and
worn, that lie with closed eyes, new.
er striving to say word of thanks.
"Go not so near the brink. madam,
entreat!' hear voice cry sharp
ly. Then l open my aching lids, and
between me and the shaft kneels
white figure: between me and the sky
there bends q white face, and tears
fall down upon my brow fast and
warm. 1t was my betrothed, Florian.
But even when she stole her little
hand III mine-mine so cramped and
numbed that it gave no response to her
tenderness-and even when she stoop.
ed and pressed her lips to my cheek,
could not breathe q word to thank
her.
Yet Florian, dear wife, let me tell thee
now that from the depths ofmy happy
heart there rose a hymn of Joy, and ]
understood from that moment that
thou vert mine, and l owe my life tc
thy love.
Then thy sweet lips breathed words
that fell upon my soul like mamma
words OF tenderness and pity that
made the torture of those slow hours
in the pit fade away, so mighty did
this reward seem for my sufferings
was carried to Trevesky, and az
the men bore me along, You walking
by my side, heard them tel the tale
OF my servants fright when my horse
returned home alone, and how they
came to your father for tidings of me
Then they whispered of the painful
search through the day and night, the
tracking of my horses hoofs upon the
snow, and the story of the scared
peasant; who all night long had heard
the cry of tortured ghosts issuing
from the earth. And the sad story
seized upon my Florian with deadly
AeAi, anu turning DaCk upon the Dlack
moor she tracked the hoof marks I'M
til they stopped upon the brink OF the
forgotten shaft. the shaft of the work.
ed-out mine, we'll named the Great
Wheal Mercy.
There was found and saved by her
l had loved so long. And, dearest, as
l slowly came back to life that New
Years morning and family whispered
to you OF my pent-up sorrow, you, in
your great pity, thinking OF my suffer.
ing in the shaft, poured out all you,
maiden heart. And your loving words.
my Florian, were sweeter to me thar
ever the thrilling Spring had been III
the Great Wheal Mercy.
So in a month you we're my wife,
and now sit by a happy hearth, and
looking down on the happy faces O,
my wife and child, l thank God for
that browning mercy-thy love, deal
One-which saved me on New Years
Day from a dreadful death in the
shaft of the Great Wheal Mercy.